


Our Trail Will Be Gone

by ryoku



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 06:12:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5364437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryoku/pseuds/ryoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has labored and toiled to correct a mistake, to realign the world as it should be. Soon, he reassures himself. Very soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Trail Will Be Gone

It felt strange to be traveling these branches of Yggdrasil again. They were familiar now, but in his mind, Hearthstone could vividly remember every previous journey. The first time had been a mistake. He hadn't felt any need to mark the occasion as anything but one of many potential pitfalls that could end their lives. He and Blitzen had scrambled the life tree's branches, fleeing from the dangers of Ratatosk. He wasn't sure what the squirrel would do to him, if they were caught, but the anguish it put on Blitzen's face every time he heard the creature was enough to concern him. He'd been swift in their retreat. His foot falls had been unsure then, harried and desperate for safety, for familiarity, for that look of desperation to never be on Blitzen's face again. He had not felt the heat of Nauthiz then, pulsing in his rune pouch as he does now. Instead it had been Gebo that burned in his mind, promising him both generosity and sacrifice. He hadn't known what he was doing then, playing at magic and hoping for things he could not have. 

Much had changed since that first trip, but some things also remained the same. He still wanted what he could not have and probably would never stop wanting. 

Now, these old gnarled, earthen branches were familiar. He had traveled them many times, but every trip had been born out of some sense of desperation. It was only now that he truly felt like he could walk this path without reservation, without the churning of bleak emotions that so plagued him. He could think on how beautiful it was, how familiar and kind this place might have been once, could have been. But that had been a day long before his birth, a world he would never know. 

The branch dipped, it's strength giving way to moist ground, as it dug its way through soil and grass. Hearthstone paused for just a moment, his eyes searching the forest in front of him. It lay dormant, the harsh sunlight breaking through gaps in the canopy, forming mismatched patterns on wild grass and thorn bushes that dominated the ground. In a flash, he saw himself, running from Yggdrasil's dangers, Blitzen right behind him. In his memory, they looked mismatched in almost every way. It had been foolish to believe that two things so opposite, could find a haven for each other, but it had not stopped them from searching the nine worlds for such a place. It had never stopped him from wanting, from longing.

Watching the scene again, he wished he could tell them, warn them at what lay ahead of them. But such gifts had never been his. The simplicities of sound, the complexity of expression, that were so natural in others, were not for him. In his youth, it had frustrated him to be called dumb, or ignorant, or stupid. He was not these things, but he had no way of showing that, and many chances to believe the harsh things others told him. His attempts at obscure gestures took time and effort to decode, and most didn't give him that time. Few had even attempted. Blitzen had been one of the only ones. Few had shown such patience and kindness, likely because few possessed it in the same capacity that Blitzen did. 

Hearthstone stepped off of Yggdrasil's branch, and into the lush density of the forest, the chaos that organized the lives of an entire ecosystem. The tall, wild grass seemed to wrap around his legs, as if begging him to stay, trying to hold him in place. The canopy above him parted, and glorious, beautiful sunlight shone down on him. A slight twitch of his lip was all he could afford to convey his appreciation. He had been concerned that the forest would know, that it would object. It was a relief to find that it did not. It welcomed him, as it had so many times before. Warmth filled him, and for just a second, it was the smell of dirt, of polished iron and roots that greeted him. It was gone again as soon as he had noticed it, replaced by grass and life and moisture, but Hearthstone had felt it every time he'd returned, ever since that first time. It was always a comfort, though the memory was laced with pain and loneliness. 

He moved forward, and the forest seemed to bend around him, trying to embrace him, to convince him to stay. _Soon_ he wanted to promise. _Very soon._

Hearthstone kept his steps light. The grass and brambles underneath him were strong, resistant things, but that didn't mean he should be harsher to them than necessary. He left the branches of Yggdrasil behind him, till the forest gobbled them up, and it was as if they had never been there at all. He ventured farther and farther into the forests embrace. The sun followed him, the canopy parting at the same pace that he moved, shifting at different angles, as if invisible hands were making sure that his flesh was warm, that he got what light he could be afforded. Often, he felt a sense of camaraderie to plant life, for they also needed sunlight just as desperately as he did. The affiliation had never felt as strong. 

The forest always led him without fail. It could easily trap him, or leave him stranded and alone forever, but it didn't. As he well knew, there was no need. The forest always led him exactly where he wanted to go. He ended his walk in a small, overgrown clearing, where sun light cascaded down onto a small stream. But as always, the only thing he had eyes for, was the figure rooted firmly in the center of the clearing. That same earthy smell fell over him for half a second, as he moved towards it. 

Immortalized in stone, covered in moss, crawling vines, thorns, and blossoming flowers, was a statue. If it truly had been sculpted, perhaps the nose might have been made straighter. The pose might have been more artistic, the eyes less wide and frantic. Gently, Hearthstone laid his hand on stone no master could have sculpted. 

He always wondered if it was wishful thinking, but he always felt a warmth from the statue, an unmistakable feeling of life, of essence. It probably was wishful thinking, but he had refused to simply mourn and move on. He was good at adapting, but he'd tasted abandonment to often to have any stomach for it. Certainly not now, when he was needed most. 

Across a stone chest he traced words, meanings, futures and impossibilities, in short clipped letters. Blitzen had understood them once, and Hearthstone hoped that he still would soon. The dust unsettled, his emotions conveyed, Hearthstone stepped back, and took a good long look at everything. The forest had claimed Blitzen in almost every way. It's grass grew around him, it's thorns fought each other for purchase over his limps, his fingers, and flowers bloomed in hair, as they reached for the sun atop his head. The dwarf wouldn't like it at all, but Hearthstone couldn't dislike the image of Blitzen with flowers in his hair. If only it wasn't for all that grey, it would be a lovely image. 

_Soon_ he thought. _With any luck, very soon._

Hearthstone could feel the runes in his pouch as they pulsed. As he placed his hand inside the bag, they felt unusually warm. He picked his first rune without hesitation, knowing which it would be without any uncertainty. As he unwrapped his fingers around the rune, Perthro greeted him, the cups mouth pointed downward, its contents intentionally poured out. He took it's warning to heart, but stepped forward and carefully placed it in the statues outstretched hand. There, the cup sat sideways, as it was intended to. It had always felt like his own personal rune, the cup that would never fill, abandoned on its side. It was a fitting thing to leave behind.

The thorns that wrapped themselves around stone fingers moved to investigate, they were a curious sort, and he couldn't begrudge them their interest. Runes were magic, the forging of thought, the foundation and fabric of the universe, divided into meaning and mystery. It was impossible to feel the wealth that came from a rune, and not to desire it. Even still, it was important to remember that all things came with prices. 

Hearthstone took another step back, and reached into his bag again. The rune this time was Eihwaz, and he couldn't stop his lips from tilting upwards. The rune had always reminded him of Blitzen. It's jagged edges reminding him of his nose for some reason. It was a rune of strength, reliability, and trust. It fit Blitzen's honest nature, all of the things that made him such a strong, commanding individual. It had been a comfort in the past years, and it was a relief to see that through all of his trials, it still felt at home in his hand. He slipped it into his left pocket, away from the other runes. 

His hand dipped into his rune pouch once more, and this time when he pulled his hand out, three runes gleamed up at him from his palm.

The first, he used without hesitation. Algiz the shield warmed in his hand as Hearthstone held it to his lips. He whispered it's name, it's meaning, old words and concepts without sound or form that bound it and it's mysteries. A great shield extended above the two of them, shielding the sun's rays, and billowing own to encase them. For just a moment, it was as if the world only consisted of the two of them, but then Algiz threw them into complete darkness, and Hearthstone could see nothing. He wondered if the plants were panicking, if they feared the darkness he'd brought forth. If they did, it wouldn't be for long. 

He felt the energy of Algiz seeping out of him, taking from him what it needed. Of the runes, Algiz was not a demanding one, but all runes took their price, and he had never more willingly paid it.

The next rune was to his mouth, his lips forming around silent words, before Algiz's toll was fully paid. Tiwaz burned in his hand, Tyr's symbol of sacrifice glowing ominiously in the darkness that enveloped him. Before he could give it a second thought, he slammed Tiwaz into his own forehead. The rune burst into pieces, back to the Well of Knowledge, where it would wait for the next foolish youth to pay its price. 

The sign of the arrow burned against his forehead, and he gasped, as strength and magic was forced out of him. He fell, and the tall grass wrapped around him, the thorns and vines creeping along his skin at a faster pace than normal, finding purchase along his flesh. Hearthstone fought to stay awake, as the emptiness of using too much magic left him feeling feeble and dizzy. But he could not rest, there would be time for that later.

One more rune warmed his fingers, the last one. The one he'd labored to obtain, the one that would complete the switch. His arm trembled forward, till Fehu rested against his lips. He remembered Frey's words, the kindness and sadness in his eyes when they'd met, and Frey had rewarded his faith. Unlike Tiwaz, which burst into dust, Fehu burned like fire, and trickled down his fingers like water, as it to fled back to the waters from whence it had come. 

He collapsed onto the ground, his fingers working in trembling, jerky motions to try and reach for Eihwaz, still cradled in his left pocket. Hearthstone could feel the cold of stone sneaking into his bones and flesh. He could feel as the thorns carved themselves into hardening skin, placing hand holds up and down him. They tightened around him, and as the his body slowly turned to stone, the pressure they left on him was a comfort. On the parts of his body that were already petrified, he could feel nothing. His fingers didn't make it to Eihwaz before they solidified. Fear gripped him, and he wondered how Blitzen had made it look so easy, had made such a horrifying reality almost comical with his jokes and barbs. 

The process overtook his neck, and somewhere in a forgotten part of his brain something screamed that he needed that. His lungs filled once, and then hardened. Algiz continued to douse them in unending darkness, but Hearthstone could no longer tell if it was his own magic, or the new state of his flesh that kept the world that way. He could think of very little around the unbridled terror sinking through his mind.

Out of nowhere, there was warmth. Rough, familiar finger pads on his face, rubbing and coaxing and pleading so tenderly. The world closed around him, and he knew no regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Dwarf and Elf mechanics in Magnus Chase give me such angsty ideas...


End file.
